A Marriage Bed of Ice and Fire
by blackeyedbandit
Summary: Most likely the worst marriage arrangement ever but it seemed only Arya and Aegon saw that...
1. Chapter 1

_AN:Omg why did i write this? i'm blaming 7treasure for her awesome story! But they would be a funny couple. the worst mr and . anywhoos! try to enjoy i have no real idea where this is going but i think it might be kinda Taming of the Shrew/ 10 days to lose a man...because i'm lame like that. THese are not my characters but the great and Powerful GRRM! SO ENJOY AND REVIEW!_

_Chapter 1:_

Westeros was slowly inching towards peace. It was that feeling after war that all was settled. Promises were made to one another and wrongs of the past were left there. By the end of the war spring was returning to the land which caused many to be thankful above all else. It was as though nature was resolving with man. It was moment where all was forgiven and warm relieved smiles are shared.

Queen Daenerys had won many to her plight with her Targareon beauty and dragons. They were the most important element to her rule. They were her legitimacy. She could have easily taken the thrown first but instead she had gone to the night's watch first where she and her dragons held off the wights and won the respect of the wildlings ensuring that new treaties would be made when she came into her rule. It was all rather political and well thought out. Even how she wore her hair. She had lived with the Dorthraki who wore braids for their victories but so had her ancestor Visenya, the sister wife of Aegon the Conqueror.

Arya was one of the last to be received by the silver queen. Waiting in a corridor out side the castle's court. Unlike the Lannisters, Daenerys liked to address her subjects individually, it was a way to keep matters private as well as make any political attacks subdued. Arya tapped her foot on the ground with agitation. She had rode for two months to come to Kings Landing as a voice for her family. Her brother Bran was sending her as an envoy. She did not come alone , of course she had brought almost forty men with her, all proven fighters and all loyal to either house Stark or house Tully.

She had only been to Winterfell for a short time, it's ruin had almost crushed her. She thought of nicer things like how Rickon had ran to her with Shaggy dog at his heels, how he had grown, he was now one and ten soon to be a man, a strong man like Robb, like their father. Bran was crippled but from it he had gained a wisdom that did not come from anything practiced but from his own sort of inner strength. She had not seen Sansa yet and she wasn't quite sure if she could face her. That would be her next mission she supposed. To speak with the new lady of the Vale.

Nymeria rubbed up against her shoulder, a comfort as well as a way to bring her back to the present. Nymeria, usually choosing to stay reclusive in the outdoors like her mistress, had chosen to accompany her into the castle, snarling at any that would try to separate them. She was about to formally pledge fealty to the Queen of Westeros and give her the list of conditions, she needed Nymeria. Bran had not agreed with them all saying that they were asking too much and now looking at the list, she wondered if it were true. She had little time to consider it further as a dark man beckoned her to the court.

Arya stood up and was about to brush the fur off of her pants and tunic but then decided against it. She was more wolf than girl and this new queen should know. Looking to Nymeria , both wolves walked past the man and into the court before he could protest.

Queen Deanerys sat comfortably in her throne, wearing a dress of white, of peace and neutrality, hardly bother by the massive direwolf in her court. Arya was again impressed by her cunning political mind.

"Of house Stark, Lady Arya Stark has come to pledge fealty on behalf of her family."

Arya stood tall and bowed low, as was expected of her though she wanted to strangle the man who had just called her a lady.

"Rise." The queen said. It was a gentle voice, not quite fitting of a conquerer. From what Arya had heard this silver queen was very fond of her brother Jon, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. She hadn't seen Jon for two years and when she saw him last she thought she had seen the ghost of her father. All tall and strong, his faced lined with manly concerns. If he trusted this queen then so would she. As if reading her mind, Daenerys Targareon smiled at her.

"Thank-you for risking this long journey to come to me on behalf of your kin. Your bravery is honoured." Arya bit her tongue and her retort. There was nothing to be afraid of on the King's road now. Like her brother Jon; the child Arya had been killed by the Night Wolf. The King's Road should fear her.

"Thank-you, Your Grace."

The queen stood up then and looked down on Arya as only a queen could.

"Do you promise in the light of the seven, the red god and the old gods to uphold the word of your regency, the rule of the realms?"

"I do."

"Do promise to honour the wishes and commands of your queen?"

"I do."

"Do promise to fight against treason as best you can for the realm?"

"I do."

"Then rise Lady Stark a beloved citizen of the realm."

Deanerys turned to go back to her throne as Arya stood. This was her time.

"Your grace," Deanerys raised and eyebrow as way of showing her intrigue in what kept Arya still in her throne room, "I have been sent by my family as an envoy to instill that you uphold certain justices as Crown Regent." The queen smiled and Arya wondered if her words were to biting; diplomacy did not come easily to her. When Deanerys did not speak Arya did.

" I have come to ask that my marriage to Ramsey Bolton be annulled and that my brother Brandon Stark be named king of the North. I ask that the Lannisters be made to pay the dept they owe to my family, and that my father should be memorialized and that he is renounced as a traitor."

Queen Deanerys looked at her for some time, thinking about what was said. Arya stood her ground.

"Your demands shall be met."

"Thank-you, Your Grace." Arya bowed again and turned on her heels.

"Ah, Lady Stark, we are not finished. I have something to request of you." This did not sound promising, perhaps she had grasped for too much. She could hear in the queen's voice that she would not be denied. Arya turned back to her, slightly embarrassed that she was being made to return like a young and foolish child who had not yet finished their lessons. She knew that the queen had meant to teach her a lesson. She supposed that it was for the best a queen can not be demanded upon. She looked at Arya with a warmth about her, like a mother looks at a child even further embarrassing the little wolf.

" Lady Stark, my nephew has just been named the Lord of Dragonstone and in good time his children will be made heirs to the Iron throne." She paused for effect letting her words reach Arya. Arya had remembered hearing how Deanerys had pledged herself to never take a husband and refused to sire any children, as she was already the Mother of Dragons. She had thought up her entire legacy without any spin-doctors and Arya had to admit that this woman was highly qualified as a regent. Nonetheless she did not like at all where this was going. Nymeria stopped her panting and stilled beside her.

"You brothers had voiced their concern of what would become of you. Lord Brandon Stark has written to me requesting that you be suitably matched. I have personally taken charge of this request and find that you would be well matched with Lord Aegon of Dragonstone." Her voice was filled with authority even as she looked at her little scribe to insure the young and exotic girl continued to write it all down.

Arya had had the rug pulled from underneath her own feet by her own kin. She looked at the queen's advisors for perhaps some guidance for herself but they were only glorified statues. Her confidence had faltered and now all she wanted to do was run as she was told her fate. She was going to wedded and bedded. Could she really refuse a queen though?

"You grace, my brothers…"

"Only want your happiness. Your brother Jon has agreed that you and my nephew would be a good match."

When Arya didn't speak she continued.

"You are of a very prominent family, Arya and leaving you unwed will only bring up more tension. A quick marriage will save you from much in the future." Arya could see that the queen was trying to be gentle but how could she be gentle when she was trying to trap Arya in a political marriage. She had just pledged her fealty and was now to give up everything. She had hoped maybe to be taken on as a strategist or perhaps given a holdfast, she could easily train men the many fighting skills she had acquired, her military mind was rather sharp. A voice in the back of her head teased her for her foolishness. Ladies are not needed for their brains but for the thing between their legs.

What Arya did next was hardly the right choice and pathetically undignified but it was either run of start to cry before the queen of all the Seven Kingdoms. So she ran, ignoring the man at the door who let out an indignant cry as she and Nymeria rushed by. She kept running until the corridor ended in a balcony. A man in all black stood there and turned at the slapping of leather boots on sandstone. She halted and walked purposefully towards him, her hands held into tight fists and she had no care that her face had tears on it.

"You backstabbing cunt!" she growled as she landing a hard punch to her brother's chest. He didn't argue it. He knew this would happen. She knew that he must have said something to the queen that led to her arranged marriage. He saw to it the Bran agreed to get Arya to the capital, to make some useless speech only so she could be told she was to be wifed. She pushed him for good measure.

"You may command your men on the wall but do not ever fucking assume that I will be commanded! Not by you nor Bran nor some stupid prick husband!" she shouted at him.

He wrapped his arms around her, constraining her arms to his chest and making beat him up all the more difficult. She fumed as she was forced to give up her attack on her all too reasonable brother.

"Arya. The queen is doing us a favour-"

"What? You think I'm unmarriageable? I can marry who ever the fuck I want!" she shouted. He should have known she would react like this, he was her closest brother, he was supposed to understand her much better.

"I'm sure you could. But Arya, this is a good offer. Aegon is young and has spent his life away from Westeros. By marrying you it would be as though the realm is embracing him and the old war is forgiven. You will be the second most powerful woman in all of Westeros." He whispered to her as he stroked her hair, as her father had done so long ago. She pulled away to look at him.

"Do you think that any of these politics matter to me?" She ventured incredulously looking at grey eyes that matched hers, searching for some comfort but settled for steeled authority, a looked her brother had taken to since he had joined the night's watch and became Lord Commander.

"You should. This marriage will give you freedom that most women can never hope for. I personally helped choose him from other options-"

"But you didn't think about letting me sit in on these meetings. I'm not something to be haggled. I thought as my brother you would understand." She pushed against him and stormed off to her designated quarters but then turned around, deciding to go to the woods. Perhaps she could avoid the marriage by just avoiding the people that wanted her married.

Nymeria was looking at her with that primal knowledge that was so haunting. The both of them had a death count so big for two so small. Well… one of them was small. Nymeria was huge her grey-brown fur spiked out in every which way with spring in the air Nymeria's coat was shedding everywhere she was sure that a pile of fur was discarded in the Throne's room.

"Come on let's go hunting."


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I'm sorry for the long wait I kinda was afraid to write this just because Daenarys is difficult for me to understand and i didn't know she would relate to Arya. And Aegon...the kid is just a giant if you have any opinions on him do share! :)_

Chapter 2:

It was nightfall by the time she and Nymeria returned to camp. She carried a string of six rabbits, not very large but enough to make a good stew. Nymeria was licking her chops as she had eaten all her catches.

By now the higher born would have eaten, her absence would have been noted and would have been pathetically covered. She would make sure they knew she could not be called on like some dog, she was a wolf, she needed nothing and no one.

The camp outside the city was rowdy and Arya knew her men were deep in their mugs. She would give the rabbits to the cooks she had brought with her, a young boy whose name she couldn't recall. The smell of caramelized parsnips and stewed cabbage filled her noise and made her stomach groan. If it wasn't for the silver-haired prick looking about the camp, she would have gone to get food. She was not in any sort of mood to entertain her betrothed's company.

"Hah. Who ever hear of a wolf getting chained to marriage." She said to Nymeria as she went about collecting sticks and one good enough for a spit. She had learned long ago to keep a flintstone with her. The warm flames gobble the twigs and leaves as hungrily as she would her rabbit after it was skinned. She hadn't realized how pathetically tiny they were not like the ones in Winterfell who understood what it meant to be cold.

As she finished skinning the rabbit, Nymeria poked her nuzzle to her cheek and began licking as she had when she was a pup as she had when she wanted her attention.

"Nymeria, you ate four already." Even as she said this she leaned over her own rabbit to unstring one for her beautiful companion. They were so similar they could read each other. She didn't have to lead Nymeria like a horse; they stepped equally without having to think. They were just intune.

"Mind if I sit with you, My Lady?"

"I mind it a whole lot more when you call me My Lady." She didn't even bother to look at him. If she looked at him it would mean he was worth looking at. She heard the shuffling of his clothing as he went to sit with her. She ignored him and focused on her rabbit spit. When she went to grab the rabbit, the stick was still hot and so she cursed when it touched her fingers. Aegon merely put his hand into the flame and pulled the rabbit out, it was charred black but his hand was unblemished. Arya could not hold back her look of awe. She had heard about the Targareon flesh being resistant to flames but seeing and hearing are two very different things.

"You can see that I might be useful." He added with a sideways glance at her. He could see her amazement at his ability. Her cool act was all gone. He held the rabbit meat out to her and she ripped into the flesh. The feel of the at and juices on her fingertips and the tenderness of the flesh was perfection. But she only observed it casually as she popped it in her mouth. It was still painfully hot and she forced herself not to wince as the burning on her tongue. He was holding the rabbit out to her and she could see the grease running down his hand and onto his fine satin sleeve. He didn't seem to mind. She ripped off another piece.

"You were missed at supper."

"Was I?" she mused. She went to get another piece of rabbit but he pulled it away and looked at her.

"You can not go about ignoring the queen's wishes, especially at this time. We need to show a strong front with mutual understanding."

" And one of those frilly southern ladies didn't meet your desires." Arya suggested as she licked her fingers clean.

"I would not know how you were chosen. I suppose my aunt thought it was most convenient."

"You didn't know?"

"Some of us are better at hiding our distain." He gave her a sideways glance. The rabbit was getting smaller and smaller. His shirt was ruined but he didn't notice. Arya was sucking the last bit of rabbit off her thumb. She didn't realize how hungry she was.

"Did they send you out to look for me? Chastise me maybe?" She was getting tired of her betrothed useless chattering and presence.

"I don't waste my time on lost causes." He threw back before getting to his feet deftly. Without even looking at her he added; " The Queen expects you for lunch and I suggest you accept that invitation much better than the one from tonight."

He walked off before she could say anything remotely sharp back or hit him. She was left on the ground with a slowing fire and a pile of dead rabbits. The men of the camp were quieting and except for the throaty guffaws and hushed giggles it was all quiet.

Arya got to her feet and made towards the castles were the queen had reserved for her a guest's quarters to be shared by her and lord Commander Snow- the back stabber. She knew he had done this as some warped kindness she was supposed to understand when she was wiser and saggier. But now she wanted only to focus on her hurt and anger.

She threw the rabbits into the cook's tent and heard him groan as they fell on his previously sleeping form. Her walk to her quarters was long through a private garden and colonnade before reaching a heavy oak door guarded by three men two in blue and grey and one in black. Arya scowled as she walked past them and through the doors. There were very few candles still lit. Jon must have left them for her to find her way to bed. And with that her resolve to never forgive Jon was broken. He was too much like their father doing things only out of kindness, and always doing the right thing. Unlike her who was quick to and defence.

She didn't bother to change, she just fell on her bed not even taking of her mudding riding boots. She was used to wearing her shoes to bed, she was a fighter like her father, and like a fighter she must always be ready to move. She hadn't slept in a luxurious bed for so long. It was too soft.. She liked her nests of leaves, her alley ways with her cloak wound tightly about her. After shifting for too long she let out a frustrated sigh and ripped the top blanket off the bed and threw to the floor before throwing herself onto the floor with Nymeria close by.

Even then she couldn't sleep. She felt so much at the moment that her mind wouldn't shut off. All that she had fought for was being taken by royal decree. She had had her adventure, her freedom from her sex but now she was to be tamed and settled into a lady. It was like the gods had entertained her foolish and hopeful whims and were now telling her it was over. She was going to be married. She wanted to cry but she couldn't, there were greater things to cry about and this wasn't one of them.

By morning she was awoken by the sharp gasp of her handmaid. She blinked and then disentangled herself from her little makeshift nest. She left the maid in her room and went to the main hall that connected her room to her brothers. Another maid stood there, taken in her disheveled hair and muddy clothing. Arya paid her no mind but walked to the nicely set table with its silly trinkets

"Bread, two eggs, and some sardines if you can find some." Arya said before grabbing an apple from the table and taking a crunching bite.

When she finished her meal, she left the chamber and wandered the castle hoping to waste time before meeting with the queen in private. It had been so long since she was here as a guest. Somehow she always found herself drawn to the stables. The one in king's Landing easily put Winterfell's to shame. There were at least five hundred stalls, she knew her own horse was somewhere down the long aisle. It was a fine hobby horse she bought off a sellsword a while back.

She stopped at the stall of charger, she had seen it before in the Battle of Rosby. She had been riding from Duskendale with some of the remaining men of the Riverlands. They had lost a good thousand men to some men from house Rykker and Mooten, who had come from the back to trap them. Of course they were expecting this, it was like running between a forest of fallen trees. But the idea was to make a distraction of sorts. She remembered Rosby, her hobby was well worth the money and it still ran while she herself could barely feel her limbs draping it. She got her second wind as a flaming arrow whooshed by and singed the end of her hair. Sword quickly in hand she leapt from her horse and onto the broad man with the uncovered neck who barely noticed her even as she sliced through the thick flesh not bother with the bone. Another she simply his arm off, when one came up behind her she slid into the mud and between his legs and forced her through his thigh. She went after another man when the charger cut her off and she fell to the mud again as its rider slashed a man from her left. The embarrassment of it all made her fight alittle more recklessly as she danced and slashed this way and that. When she felt the back against her own she wanted to tell the fool she could handle herself.

"Control yourself or you'll get your ass killed!" The owner of the charger yelled as his own blade caught a man of Mooten on the cheek and exposed his rotting teeth. Arya moved away from his back and spun between two men and caught on the should and another in the rib. They still kept coming. She had stupidly let one giant oaf get too close and his sword was pushing against her finer blade, she felt her forarm screaming in pain and she forced herself to defend. The man spat blood in her face and she realized another sword had penetrated his torso. It was the man behind her getting in her way, he pulled her by the waist to avoid the large man falling on her. And that's when she say who he was, the violet eyes and silver hair undeniably Targarean. She dove from under his arm and went after two more men.

Down at the end of the stable was her horse. A freckled mare with a mild temperment. Arya loved horses maybe second to direwolves, they were strong and swift. They were the image of freedom. She took up a brush and began grooming the mare. Feeling the hot muscle and strength in such a timid creature. Sometimes she had drifted asleep while riding and it was as though she could see through the eyes of the beast. A man from Barrowton had told her that some horse bond so well with their riders that they become one mind and body when they ride. Arya did not understand how she could be one mind with the mare when she was unconscious.

"Lady Stark? Lady Arya?" the voice was getting louder and Arya turned towards it. A rather well-to-do man hopped towards her trying to avoid any of the muck on the stable floors. When his eyes landing on her she saw him purse his lips at her overall appearance. "The queen has called on to meet her in her private suite…I can tell her your are…cleaning up."

"Not necessary." She put the brush onto the ledge of the stall and hoisted herself over it, walking past the messenger and onwards to the Queen's personal suite.

The queen was waiting outside of it speaking a strange tongue to the man in front of her door. A dothraki blood warrior, as she had later learned. A man who wore armors made for tough leather and suede. His hair was pulled into a messy braid, quite similar to her own. He was a stark contrast to the fair queen. When her eyes fell on Arya she smiled warmly, and did not look at her with distain but rather amusement, which could sometimes be worst.

"Ah, Arya. Thank-you for meeting with me."

"My queen beckoned for me, I came." Arya said simply. Showing off how little her lady lessons had been impressed on her. Instead she laughed.

"I suppose that is true, I'm still a young girl and I often forget."

"Does that line work one the men of your court often?" The queen stopped and so Arya followed suit. She walked to a window overlooking a garden and then turned to Arya.

"Does you bluntness often work Lady Stark?" Arya took a step back not used to such composed response. When she didn't speak, Deanarys continued. "It's clear to everyone that you are not like the other highborns, choosing to outcast yourself from your own people."

"They are not my people." The queen didn't even react.

"Then why did you return?" Again Arya was speechless until Deanarys spoke again, " It is the same reason my nephew and I returned. Family. Even when it's gone, it stay with you egging on your entire essence. Westeros is always in the back of our mind. There is always something unfinished in Westeros."

"I suppose that is true." The queen looked at Arya with something like pity.

"Most girls would be thrilled with such a match."

"I'm not most girls."

"I suppose that is true." Deanarys laughed, it was forced as she tried to think of what to say to the stubborn northerner. " Some girls do not get such good matches or rather avoid to see the good in their matches. Some liked to whine about how their fathers sold them off." She laughed again but it was bitter and her eyes were dead as she continued.

"I was sold off by my brother, my protector. When I went to him with my virginly concerns he told me he would let the entire Dothraki tribesman and their horses have me."

Arya felt awkward and unsure with what she was supposed to do or say.

"Your Gra-"

"It was horrible at first. I was alone, with people so different from what I was used to. I had a husband that did not speak the same language as me. I was younger then you, I had barely flowered." Arya shifted her feel but still couldn't find her bearing. It wasn't a fate she'd wish on anyone, she was lucky enough to escape for this long but she couldn't very well say that to the queen as she shared her personal story.

And then she smiled. She was truly beautiful, everything expecting of a queen.

"At the end it was a good match. I grew from it, got stronger, wiser." She finally looked at Arya again. "Marriage is nothing to fear."

"I'm not afraid."

" That's good." The Queen said trying to find something else to say and trying to ignore the hostile attitude of the younger girl. She sighed seeing that this would be difficult, Arya knew that she could be difficult.

"Arya did you know why I chose you for my nephew? It is not some punishment-"

"It's just convenient and politically driven." Arya said coldly. She didn't want to talk about her inevitable fate, she wanted to pretend it didn't exist as she had for the last fourteen years.

"I wanted you for him because, unlike the ladies of court, you are a warrior and the heir to the iron throne needs a mother who can fight who can teach them to be strong…" Arya watched the queen and felt her every word and looked at her feet to hide her guilt. Her head snapped up when two soft hand fold around her rough ones.

Deanarys scanned Arya's face, trying to grasp something in her eyes to make her see her reasoning. Arya was bristling at the almost aggressive way the queen held her hands and at her openness, her power. The queen would not be turned down no matter how long it took or what it cost. Arya bit her lip as she looked for the words she needed to say.

"…Fine."

The queen smiled again, satisfied, before looping her arm around Arya's

"I think lunch must be ready by now."

_AN/ Hey since there's this new image thing on here like for title pages i was thinking it would be cool if i had a picture for every story i wrote, i'm working on one right now for What was Lost. but i think this story needs one too! Share and idea maybe?_


	3. Chapter 3

**for your reading pleasure...**

Chapter 3

Since she had agreed to marry the queen's nephew, lords and ladies had constantly called her on; some would send her gifts like pearls, or silk. All useless and all only adding to her bale. Today Lady Archreas would be sending her personal dress maker to help make more suitable dresses for the very unfashionable Stark girl.

Arya woke to the loud knocking at her door. She snuggled into Nymeria's fur and her, the wolf give a light growl. If her maids had the sense of a pin head, they would send off the unwanted visitor and let her sleep.

The door to her room burst open with frilly cloth and loud voice. Nymeria got up and growled at the intruder. The doorway stood a plumb oily man with combed back blackish blue hair and a matching curly beard, he was escorted by six others, all dressed like various species of birds. All wide eyed and slack jawed at her on the floor.

"Look at the state of…quick!" the big man said, snapping his fingers to two of the birds to grab her and wash her. Arya jumped up and began to protest when her maids came forward and led her out of the room to a tub set up in the main room that joined her and her brother's rooms together. He had left earlier this week, after the queen had told him of Arya's acceptance. Her brother had changed.

The maids scrubbed her raw. Arya could hear the grit leaving her hair as she watched her other maids tidy her room at the command of the fat man. When they were satisfied with the redness of her skin they help her out and threw a soft cotton robe about her after patting her was not enough material

Nymeria was on the bed watching the birds with hungry eyes as if decided which would be the tastiest. The plump man was sniggering with the birds speaking Lorathi and trying not to let on that they were talking about her.

"_It would be easier to dress the beast."_

"_A pretty face for sure but no teats or hips."_

"_The dragon lord better like little boys."_

"We will need a good corset and a big skirt." The plump man said smiling .

"What are you doing?" she hissed when the one bird wrapped a silk ribbon about her chest.

"We need your measurements, my sweet lady." The plump man said. She nodded reluctantly as they poked and measured her.

"_She is so skinny."_

She decided it would be best to just get it over with so that she could go on with her day. She just needed to keep her mouth shut and let these idiots finish their work. She tried to ignore the look of disgust one poufy looking creature was making as she took in the scattered array on dirty clothing on the floor. Arya was sure some of it might even have blood on it. But with would be done with soon, she should just relax and let her mind wander.

"_A broom has more curves."_

Their powdered hands felt queer on her skin. To delicate, not a callous on them. She shook her head. Nymeria had curled into herself and watched with something like amusement. It probably looked strange to her to see her companion like this.

"_The poor lord."_

They were all laughing and her anger was at its limit especially after getting pricked in the buttocks by a bird.

"_Such a waste."_

"That is it! OUT!" She yelled, slapping their hands away and removing the dumb robe, walking naked to her dresser. She could hear their gasps at her lack of modesty as she tugged on from leathered pants and a loose fitting tunic. They were still looking at her as she pulled on her boots. Without looking up she spoke.

"_Did you not hear me? I told you to leave, birds." _

They straightened and gathered their sewing stuff in a frenzy before flying out of the room. The fat man gave her a fleeting look, his whole face red with indignation. She made sure to wink at him.

One of her maids walked in looking at the room as though it were a bear's cave. Arya looked at her with her brow raised in expectation and the maid looked down.

"I'm off to the training grounds, don't worry about the mess it will only get messier." She said standing up.

"Oh but I don't think-" Arya walked past the shy maid whose eyes widened as she made to follow after Arya.

"Lady Arya! You have a guest." The maid finally cried. Though it was rather unneeded since Arya could see the man sitting at her dining table. He looked at her when she walked in, looking at her outfit and smiling.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The maid squeaked at her lady's manners. Arya folded her arms. She wasn't quite ready to play the doting betrothed. His smile only grew. The damned idiot! He rose from the chair.

"I was hoping my lady would join me for some light hunting?"

It caught her off guard. He could see it on her face. He stepped in closer, so that there was less than two feet between them.

"I'll get you home before it gets dark." He promised and her nostrils flared.

"I'm ready when you are."

"There's my girl."

The forest was on the outskirts of the city surrounded the eastern side of King Landing. Arya had been in it on occasion for walk s and such or to set snares. She had never been in it on foot to hunt boar or elk. He had grabbed them both a spear. Nymeria followed but then went off on her own. He seemed to know what he was doing. She assumed if her betrothed could do it so could she.

She was quiet on her feet but she felt her heart pounding with excitement. Her mother had never let her go hunting and she had never had a reason to go. It was only her and Aegon, he said too many would be too much of a burden. They had to go deep into the forest and stay down wind .

She walked behind him, taking the chance to observe him. To see him walk about the forest on sure feet and his posture loosen like an overbearing robe. Maybe he wasn't the stupid prick she had decided he was. Something about being away from people made her feel instantly better. There were no ladies to frill about like idiots or lords with upraised noses only the air, the dirt and the trees.

Arya was halted when she walked into Aegon, who seemed completely ignorant to her.

"Stay here and be quiet." He whispered. He walked off, disappearing behind the trees.

Arya was not one for being ordered around and if her future husbands expected her to be a stupid little air head he was in for a whole other sort of hell.

Her train of thought ended when she heard something, moving. She followed the sound. Her heart beating and her nerves strung tighter than any bow. She pushed back the bit of shrubbery and saw the biggest boar she had ever seen, it's nose submerged in the mud looking for grubs and roots. The spear in her hand felt heavy with expectation. There was no time to think when the beast froze for a mere second before turning on her, she moved deftly, out of the reach of the deadly tusks . On her back ,her spear went through the flesh and the boar huffed out its last breaths.

She couldn't move and pushing the boar off her was proving more of a challenge then first expected.

Aegon came running back to see her on the ground panting, with the massive corpse resting on her leg. His eyes widened at the sight of her and she noticed he didn't have his spear. With the adrenaline leaving her, she could feel the throbbing pain in her left ankle. Aegon was at her side forcing the boar off her foot and looking her over for any cuts or wounds. When his eyes landed on her foot and his brow creased.

"Why didn't you stay still?" He asked, taking the boot off her foot. Arya bit her lip, it was already starting to swell. She thought she would retch when he started prodding the flesh. She whimpered when his hand grazed the front of her foot. He looked up at her and she felt her face go red.

"Help me up." She said biting back the pain and trying to sound as unaffected as possible, not looking at him although she knew full well he was looking at her. He let out a humourless breath.

"You can't walk on that."

"I can do whatever I want!" she barked and she made to get up on her left leg unconsciously, instantly her eyes fluster and she thought she would pass out. Aegon caught her against his chest before sweeping his arm under her knees as the other tucked under her arm.

"We need the measter to take a look at that." He sounded exhausted. Arya watched his hair swish back and forth, the pain was making her somewhat delirious. She was still focused on his hair when he looked down at her. He frowned and shook his head and Arya tried not to follow the hairs undulating pattern. Shit, she was dizzy.

They were out of the forest and now the sun buzzed onto her eyes. She turned her head into his chest, the scratchy tunic on her face. All she could smell was sweat and heat , it was comforting and she was fighting the desire to close her eyes and sleep. Pain always made her sleepy.

There were murmurs and sniggers as they walked through camp. She could feel the heavy weight of eyes all over, of judgement. Some of the bawdier ones threw jokes at them.

"Looks like milord caught himself a she-wolf."

"Wonder if he got to spear her."

"Is that why she ain't walking."

Arya felt flushed with anger at the crudeness of her men. She would be the limping joke for the rest of her life. From her angle it looked as though the Targareon was getting some colour to his lordly little cheeks. His jaw was even clenched.

"I believe if you walk at little ways into the forest you'll find lady Stark's trophy lying dead for dinner." He hollered to her men and then to her he murmured, "they're a little dull."

"well they get the job done."

"Yes, it is broken." The measter said, pointing out the obvious by tapping her ankle. Arya bit her lip and clenched the arms of the chair in the measter's chambers.

Aegon was hovering about, beside the old fool. Arya bit her lip and looked away. He was making her mad, embarrassed and edgy all at once.

"You can leave now."

He didn't even acknowledge her.

"You will have to keep off your ankle for perhaps a month. No running, or riding, you might need some help carrying anything so let you men do your heavy lifting." The wrinkly old fool wrinkled some more as he tried to smile. She casually wondered if he would still try this foolish grandpa measter act if she flipped him the bird.

Aegon went to help her out of the chair. She was about to rebuke but the idea of making a fool of herself and then having to depend on him in front of two of the most insufferable people ever was enough for her to accept his arm.

He adjusted himself to take some of her weight and try to match her limited height.

"Thank-you Measter."

Before, it would have been her brother Jon helping her limp to her room, now her betrothed. She knew the tears were waiting in the corners of her eyes but she would not let them fall. Not now. She wasn't sure what was going on anymore. When she had finally saw her brother she had expected things to go back to normal. She thought he would laugh and smile when she showed up at the wall with her men. They didn't embrace initially, which was the first sign. Brother Jon was gone.

"For a first time hunting, you did rather well, Lady Arya." Aegon offered.

Arya didn't offer him anything in return until they reached to door of her chambers.

The guard outside her room had gapping look, not quite sure what to do. Arya shuffled Aegon off her and limped to the idiot.

"Thank-you, my lord but my guard can assist me now."

Aegon frowned for a moment and then composed.

"Of course. Ser, make sure the lady doesn't over exert herself." And with that he turned sharply on his heels and left her.

The guard brought her into the apartment, leading her to her room.

"No take to so the commander's room please."

He tried not to raise his brow but wordlessly did what she said. Arya limped to the chair in the corner of the room, covered in the deep light of the ending day. The room was hollow and dark. It looked recently cleaned, but just knowing her brother had been here made the loss of him more keen. Arya looked at the room for as long as she could and then out the window, to watch the sun die out as it always had. The irony was that she knew where all her surviving siblings were but could reach none of them.

She had never felt more alone.

**Wow you guys are the best! Your reviews always make me smile and let me know that i'm not just writing this and throwing it onto the internet to be lost in cyberspace forever :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: OMG! It has been so long. I was really busy this summer! I was sure I forgot how to write. you guys are the best reviewers ever! I used to write fanfiction and then I'd get bored and just stop and leave the stories unfinished but I don't want to do that anymore. **

**Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy!**

Chapter 4

She was sweating for sure. The solid fabric clung to her and held in all the sweat. But that was less annoying then the current situation the young she-wolf had found herself in.

Her ankle was healing well enough but in the time between injured and healed Arya was left with no excuse not to dress the part of noble lady or to deny the invitations of the other ladies of King's landing and especially not the queen's gracious requests.

Arya could keep her mouth shut sulk silently to herself but since her very private agreement to marry Aegon all the stupid ladies of the court felt the need to titter with her about silly things such a bards, needlework and the weather.

On this such day, Arya was forced to be entertained by lady Tarla and her thirteen year old daughter Blossom. An unfortunate name for such an unbecoming child. The child looked as miserable as Arya felt. Her mother was blathering about roots to increase fertility and Arya was pretending not to be looking at the mole on the upper cheek of the older lady. Arya could hear Blossom's stomach growling and was sure she wasn't the only one.

"If I don't eat soon I might start gnawing on my own arm." Arya offered to the very red faced girl.

There was a slight muttering from some of the other women who chose to skirt around the young Stark woman and watch her with contempt looks and humourless laughs. The funny thing was Arya was used to being the odd one. She had never fit in with the girls and the boys rarely knew how to approach her even her own men were sometimes wary about her. It was a strength that bit of unpredictability, it left others confused.

Arya would have said as much to the ladies if not for the Queen's arrival. She was dressed nicely enough in a subtle capital dress in pale lavender with an ivory lace detail along the collar and sleeves. She seemed to be the only one unbothered by the hot weather.

"Welcome guests, I am so happy to have you share this day with me." When her eyes scanned over them all she let her eyes retrack back to Arya and let a warm smile grace her face. She moved effortlessly towards the less refined younger woman.

"It is so good to see the future bride of my blood." She said looking only at Arya but projecting herself for the rest to hear. Arya wasn't sure but it looked the queen took on a smug look as the feel of the outing changed. Danaerys was making them see her differently.

"Let us begin our walk."

Arya walked beside Danearys, their arms linked.

"How is your ankle feeling?"

"Better."

It was, but the measter had threatened her enough times that any exertion will hinder its healing. It made Arya pissed to know that her measter or betrothed felt the need to tell everyone in the castle. She was not allowed to walk up the stairs without a man to support her. Since she could not practice her combat or horseback ride she was forced into dresses every morning, each worse than the last.

The past few days she had been made to accept visitors all offering the same condolences or bringing her gifts she didn't need. She felt as though she would soon meet her unraveling.

Before them was a table filled with ripe and colourful food. A thin artisan linen covering the long harvest table. Over the food was a lengthy was a canopy in a sunset orange and balancing the lavender of the Queen's gown.

Arya was seated to the right of Daenerys, the place of honour. At the farther end of the table sat Blossum and her mother. Arya smiled at the girl when she caught her looking.

" You brothers have confirmed that they shall be arriving in two months for the wedding."

Whenever she thought she could forget about her circumstances, even for a moment there was someone there to remind her. It was like some cosmic power had wanted to make up for the last 9 years of her not having to worry about marrying some awful lord. Her fate had caught up with her and clung to her like a shadow. Arya knew what she was supposed to say to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she was supposed to smile and say how pleased she would be to show her family to her betrothed and his aunt. She saw supposed to blush and assure her majesty that she would be a good and faithful wife to Aegon Targareon. That was not her though she didn't want to say anything because she knew the wrong words would come out. So she tried to smile and nod.

Daenerys took her hand and squeezed it. Arya looked at the queen and couldn't tell if she felt better or worse. The queen had been sold to her husband and still she sympathized with a girl who was put into a smart match by brothers who loved her. She just wished they realized how much this didn't suite her.

The lunch was good but for once Arya did not feel hungry. She tried to be polite and restrained as she was made to speak with the noble women. When it was acceptable Arya made an excuse about her ankle and walked away from the others.

She didn't want to have to be near anyone.

She found her feet leading her to the library a place she had rarely gone but was sure to find noone interested in talking to her. Only measters came here. The room was massive with shelves of upon shelves covered with books from all across the world. On one table there was a copy of the tales of westeros. It was a book that often led her to sleep as a girl with her father reading to her of the great battles and fierce warriors.

"Lady Stark, what a rare and pleasant sight."

Arya had forgotten about the little Lannister. He was probably the only person that read more books than a measter. She turned to him and nodded. He was unnerving. His face was horrible but she had seen worse. His eyes were always filled with knowing and that was what truly made him hard to look at.

"A pity , you just missed Lord Targareon."

"Woe is me." She said as she slumped into the chair across from the little man. He smiled but he put down his own book.

" You know I have seen a few weddings and not all end in happiness."

"And you predict mine to? I'm not a lady and I don't want to be treated like one."

The little man smiled with the type of amusement one might bestow on a small child. It was only making her angier.

"You are being quite selfish don't you think? How many girls before you were made to marry men they hardly and yet act as though it were true love? Why should any of us have a perfect matching? Surely you know of the Queen's own marriages and she was much younger than you."

Arya felt her cheeks burn.

"It will be scary- knowing the responsibility you're getting but it will also grant you some power to influence others, to be like your father or brothers."

She didn't reply . She kept her eyes intent on the book in her hands. She didn't want to read so she bore scorch marks into the pictures with her eyes. When she heard the suffling she looked up to see Tyrion hobble out of his chair. He made to leave but not before casually saying;

"Funny, Lord Targareon was just reading that book."

She could hardly stay in the library now, or ever for that matter.

She left the book on a chair and left the library. It was funny how her ankle was compromised but still she was made to wear lady's footwear. They clung too tightly and made too much noise. She clacked her way out of the castle anyhow.

The sun was welcoming and the smell of dirt and life greeting her. Her body relaxed as she was now in a place she understood. Stomping through the well trodden ground through the camp she felt the eyes of whores, sellswords, farmers, and lesser knights on her and she reveled in it. Her shoulders back and her skirts clasped almost mockingly in her hands. She did a mocking curtsey past one group of familiars but she was not hear to entertain her men. The sound of steel on steel sounded more pleasing than any song could.

Making her way to the makeshift fighting ground they had set up perhaps three months past. Arya was not surprised to see the young boys watching the older boys in the ring trying to hit eachother. She grinned when some of the younger boys caught sight of her and burst into fits of laughter. She moved towards the boys sparring until her stomach touched the fence.

"You are not made of stone- move! Defend your left. Left! If you dare flinch I shall beat you myself!"

"m-milday!"

Arya had not heard the younger boy come up behind her. His eyes looked like they might burst. Arya did not now the boys name she only knew he was an orphan who had been stumbling about with her group for the past year. She was honestly surprised he was still alive. The boy was a thin thing with straw coloured hair and soft brown eyes that matched the freckled on his face. He always looked so fragile. He was small for his age, perhaps the same height as herself. She smiled to him and waved him over. Gods, he seemed even more frightened of that. Most of the men had adjusted to the little fact that they were being led by a small woman of nine and ten with a rather large direwolf.

She watched the boys duel but could feel the look she was getting from the young man to her left.

"What is troubling you, boy?" she tried to soften her voice though it was never really who she was.

" Nothing Milady."

She internally cringed. The word was so feeble sounding. She would have to get used to now that the war was done. With the tension loosening there was no need for strong women only fertile. She ran her hand through her hair, there were less tangles and she could smell the flowery oils and thought how sill they were. It was fighting the inevitable, she would get dirty and her hair would become a mess only fit for the birds. Her mother had spent so much time trying to make her into something beautiful and polished like Sansa but nothing ever stuck .

She watched the boys fighting and thought of happier times. She thought of crisp autumn leaves that cheered her when she made a good swing at one of her brother or the village boys. She remember how they would collect in her hand like a squirrel's nest or the most amazing crown ever.

Walking to the opening of the fence, Arya entered. The boys stopped, their faces splotched with much and their eyes on her. They were local boys just wanted to pretend to be something weren't if only for a brief moment. Arya could relate.

" If you are going to practice, you should at least practice right." She turned to the young man who had joined her and now looked on.

"Boy, grab two wooden swords."

He was surprised she spoke to him but did as she asked. She turned to the boys.

"Get on your toes. Knees bent slightly and shoulder width apart. Good."

She walked up to the blacked haired boy and put her hand gently on his back.

"Keep it straight."

She pushed the other boy and frowned as her tumbled on the ground.

"Strong legs."

She helped the boy up and checked his legs she pushed at them until she was satisfied that they were held better. By now a crowd was forming of village children. All watching the noble lady in her tattered dress teach local farm boys and bastards learn to fight.

"Balance your weight on your toes. It's not about making cheap hits but out maneuvering your opponent."

She let them fight and then rounded up more children to fight some of the younger ones she got to chase the boy from her camp.

By the time, the sun began to set all the children were a mess and her camp boy was exhausted with a clump of children on him and one particular child gnawing on his arm. Arya smiled and realized it was a little girl.

"Alright you lot, time to head off." She turned to her camp boy and got him to help her put away the little swords and pry a few away from the boys.

"I'm starving and I did barely anything."

"Does your ankle still bother you, Milady?"

"Only some. I wish I could ride my horse or help those boys with their swords." She turned and smiled at him. "You'll have to show them how it's done, right"

He blushed and looked down, a frown on his face.

"Milady, I am only a cook. I haven't even held a sword before today."

She stopped.

"Well that won't do. How old are you boy?"

"four and ten, Milady."

She looked him up and down, he looked soft with thin limbs and a spread of pimples on his face and neck.

"Tomorrow you'll get your first lesson with the sword."

For the next few days, Arya would wake up, allow her maids to put her into whatever dress wasn't to badly ruined and then head to the camp ground. She would train her cook and the village boys. The sight would sometimes gather attention but she ignored it. It gave her something to look forward too. It made the bather more bearable.

Arya barely noticed the time pass until she was seated in the measter's room.

"I think you shall be able to fully use your ankle now, Lady Arya."

Yes! Those golden words she had waited for. Arya thanked the measter perhaps a thousands times. She knew she sounded foolish by the look on her guards face. As soon as she was out of the room she ran to her chamber, nearly knocking over a maid and heading for her trunk of clothing.

She no longer need to wear dresses. No more girdles or stockings. She dug trough her clothing looking for her tunics and pants but came up short.

That can't be right.

She got up then and sighed in frustration, turned on her maid,

"Where are my clothing?"

The maid had a guilty look about her or maybe Arya just wanted to accuse everyone.

"Lord Targareon had the them replaced, My lady."

**...**

**Hey, baby, wanna...review? :3**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: OMG! I love you all. Reviews keep this going especially AryaxXxEragon who reminded me that you can't just give up on a story. I will tell you that school will get in the way of chapters (archeology is going to kill me) and so will play rehearsal and life in general so don't be put off if the next chapter isn't up until mid-december. I love writing this story because of the enthusiasm I feel after reading your lovely responses.**

Chapter 5

She stomped out of the room in her tattered dress from the afternoon, ignoring her maid and guards as she left her chamber, her heels stomping the ground so that he would know she were coming almost like war drums.

His quarters were on the same floor as her own. She made it to his door quite easily and quite easily she pushed away his confused guards, not sure if they could contain their lord's lady.

He stood when he saw her intrude and did not look very surprised, maybe a little amused. He didn't say anything he just smiled coyly. His hair was out and his clothing looked worn. His pants tattered. He was allowed to have tattered pants but not her!

"You are an absolute prick!"

He seemed even more amused. His violet eyes looked like they were glowing.

"You should wear dresses." He calmly stated. His eyes looking her up and down. Seriously? She felt more than embarrassed. She was a parody of femininity and he wanted her- they all wanted her- to wear a dress. She moved to him, swift to strike him a punch, a kick, anything to get that look off his face! Not swift enough. She felt herself bent over the table with him leaning over her. Arya was shocked to say the least. Embarressed too. That was too easy. His one hand was against her head, holding her down. Her eyes were on his arm just inches from her face, she could see every vein and muscle. Arya growled as she tried to loosen herself but she couldn't.

"If I am to be a lady, you should not be this close to me."

She couldn't see his face but she felt his hand move through her hair, sliding it away from her ear so she could better hear his breathing and he brought his head closer. His body shaped to mimics her until she feels his hot breath on her neck, feels her body react and burn. This closeness isn't right and it scares her but does something else too.

"What if I do not want you to be a lady with me?"

What did that mean? She knew what is meant. A lump filled in her throat.

_Speechless, love?_

He said it in Valaryian.

_What are you suggesting?_

She could feel her heart beating faster. This was too good. She didn't want to say it out loud or think about the possible insinuation.

"I am not suggesting but promising that if you pretend to be a lady for these nobles then you can be yourself whenever you desire."

He pulled away slowly, the hand that had been in her hair travelling the curve of her back before ascending. His other hand was still on the table, though more relaxed. Arya turned her head to look up at him.

_You promise?_

_Yes._

He was still too close but she got up and adjusted herself to face him, looking into his violet eyes. They were darker but honest, perhaps determined.

"If you break your promise I will cut off your little friend."

He smiled and leaned in again, this time face to face. Was he trying to intimidate her? She leaned against the table to show her nonchalance.

"In two weeks you can have a friend too."

She knew there was shock on her face. It was the boldest and most suggestive statement anyone had ever said to her in the past five years. She wasn't sure if she was disgusted or impressed. Lords weren't supposed to say things like that. Well if that was the game he wanted to play she would accept.

"I think you overestimate yourself, my lord." She said moving to stand up and push him out of the way.

He brought out that smile again but she now understood. They would not have a marriage but a game. She had a challenge.

Arya left the chambers, the guards outside looking at her with barely hidden curiousity. They didn't need to know. It was between them alone. It was to see who was the better pretender. Neither she nor Aegon would make good lord or ladies truthfully but they could trick the others.

Still…

It was rather dark at the camp but Arya found his tent easily enough. She put her hand on his mouth and saw the startled look on his face. She had awoken him.

Shhh.

He nodded and she removed her hand.

"M-milady?"

He could obviously see it was her but that was beside the point. She saw him moved to get up and felt mildly guilty.

" No need to get up. I need pants. Do you have any pant I could have?"

He nodded again and looked at the corner of the tent on a little stool beside a pile of carrots and onions. On the stool was some tan pants.

She grabbed them and quickly thanked the boy.

When she got to her room she made sure to hide the pants under her bed. It was dark enough for the moonlight on Arya's bed to almost glow. She threw off her dress and walked, naked, to the balcony. She was sure her noble sister would have blanched but she had probably never felt the night air on her skin. She had heard many stories of the moon, some saying it was and egg like the one that have once hatched countless dragons others saying it was a shy maiden running from the lustful sun. She had once heard it was the child of the see, a pearl that had splashed up into the nightsky, that was why the waters reached for it, jumping but never touching.

She could not smell Nymeria in the room and was sure the shewolf had gone back to the forest, back to her tribe that bordered the camp. Arya remembered many battles when she had arrived back in Westeros. It was after she had left the house of black and white shivering and scared in the hard shell vessel of a spice boat. She didn't know where she would go , from reports, Winterfell was no longer a place for Starks. She had been noone for so long that having nowhere was not daunting. It was the fear of being followed. Coming back to Westeeros was strange it was no longer the same place. Poverty was everywhere, some towns completely abandoned. She had been able to find shelter in such places and that was when the wolves came.

She had been shivering in her newly acquired furs, it was colder than she had ever dreamed. So cold she was sure her skin would shatter. You can die from cold. The air heavier on your lungs can feel just as lethal as a blade newly sharpened. She couldn't risk a fire and she didn't want to move, not that she could. She was preparing herself for death, waiting for that moment of warmth from the red god before her took her.

That was when she felt it. There was a shadow on the wall. She was so cold she did nothing. Let them end her. She was alone and forgotten. Then she felt hot breath on her check. She could smell blood, human blood.

There was a snort and a nudge before she felt the creature curl around her. More came in to the tiny shack and then all she would smell was musk, blood and snow. It was how she survived, clinging to a pack of man eating wolves. Her body wrapped under the leg of direwolf.

She felt a nudge on her leg now and smiled. The wolf had known her thoughts, had found her. The pack came back for the lone wolf in winter.

Arya strummed her fingers through Nymeria's coat it was thinning out as the winter was but it was still thick and strong.

Together they both went to the bed.

The engagement announcement was fast approaching and Arya had made sure to occupy herself with training the young boys and her cook. She had found it easier to wear her skirts in court and then leave them before getting to the campgrounds, wearing the pants of the cook underneath. The cook boy ,or Arthur as she had later learned, was impossible with a sword.

"You are too scared, stop hesitating!" she barked, her hands on her hip to keep her from grapping the sword out of his hand and clobbering him to show was no hesitation looks like. She stomped up behind the boy, putting her arms on his, guiding them. " you must not over think it. This should be natural." She put her hand over his and swung the sword with him.

" Yes, milady."

She left his to swing at the air while she dealt with the younger boys who were just pushing each other in the mud.

"Are you all a group of oinking pigs? Get up!"

The boys all got up, a pathetic attempt at the straight line before her. Oh seven hells, Westeros' finest. All her boys with matted hair and snot on their upper lips. She went around straightening them up, testing their knees, giving them a light push.

"Have none of you learned anything." She got into fighters stance before them.

"Now one of you come up and try to knock me down. See it will be imposs-"

She should have known that they all would have come up all pulling at her legs and arms in a giggling fit at their mischief. She lost her balance for a cheap grab at one of the smaller boys and fell in the mud. Not one for being bested by mere boys. They all squealed in delight at making the lady look more the fool, splashing about in mud.

"Don't just stand there boy, help me catch these monsters." She commanded her cooking boy, Arthur.

Together they went around the training ring chasing the younger boys. Making them squeal in delight when they were caught and other trying to catch each other. Some of the linger men around her campsite watched on, laughing and cheering on the little devils.

Then the laughing died off. The young boys stopped running and her cook boy's face went beet red. All were either looking at or away from the fence nearest to the camp's entry way. Arya stopped and looked too.

She really wish she hadn't.

Before her was a lady of stark contrast. Unklike herself, the woman wore a proper linen dress of deep blue with her hair arranged in fine twirls and braids on her head. She was beautiful even with her nostrils flared and her eyed wide in horror.

Unconsciously, Arya straightened up and smoothed her eternally wrinkled shirt. She looked down and kept her hands on the ends of her tunic.

"Sister, it is pleasant to see you."

Sansa was unmoved. Her eyes adjusted into a cool and polite gaze.

"Lady Arya, I have come to request you presence."

Even as she said this, her eyes scanned Arya's outfit disapprovingly but not entirely surprised.

"I am-"

"Now."

Defeated, Arya left the ring and followed her sister. Sansa did not say a word. Arya didn't know what to say. As they walked into the castle, Sansa walked beside her. Almost as though she were taking her to the dungeons. Walking through the corridor many lords and ladies looked at the two sisters that couldn't be any more different. Arya defiantly kept her head up and walked as surely as she ever had. Sure they saw her pretty sister ever the lady but she would always be a wolf.

As they climbed the stairs to where Arya supposed were Sansa's rooms, the met with Aegon. Arya felt her heart stop, remembering her deal. Aegon looked at the two sisters and smiled as he made eye contact with Arya.

"Lady Tyrell, it is good to see you at last. I am happy that you could find your sister."

"Lord Targareon. I must thank you for your help in finding my dear sweet sister."

He did a slight bow as he passed them.

Arya was now sure that she would give the prince a piece of her mind.

"That was embarrassing." Sansa said as they entered her corridor and saw that only her guards were in sight.

"You are a Tyrell?" Arya had only known one male Tyrell and from what she heard he would not be very interested with Sansa.

"Well little sister if you paid any mind to court life you would know that I had married Willas Tyrell perhaps three years ago. I had invited you for lunch nearly half a dozen times and so today I was quite fortunate to run into your future lord who told me where I would find you."

As soon they made it into the Tyrell apartment, Sansa called for her maids to redress Arya in one her old gowns.

How had she never known her sister had married? She had been at Winterfell over a year and know had felt the need to tell her. Not even Jon. No not Jon; Lord Commander Snow. She had somehow expected everything to be the same when she had come back home.

When Arya was dressed in a loose sunny yellow piece, Sansa was standing beside a man, older than Sansa but gentle looking. He was a Tyrells and looked the picture of a song's knight. He had soft brown hair that ended at his shoulders with matching kind brown eyes and a good jaw. It took her only a moment to realize her was as crippled as Bran with Sansa under one arm and a heavily lent on crutch.

"So this is my new sister." He smiled warmly enough. And stretched out his hand to hands her. She tried to ignore the shaking in her upper arm or how he tried to hide the cringe from his features but Arya could see it on Sansa's face, the worry and disapproval as she adjusted her husbands weight as though, clinging to him as though she were the cripple.

His hands were strong though; firm and warm.

"It is good to meet my new brother." She said smiling at both him and Sansa. Seeing Sansa blush as she used to as Winterfell.

They then all walked to a large table in their dining room, a robin's egg blue room where a good meal or rabbit was laid out. Arya sat on the other side of her sister's husband and they spoke of each others travels and vague mentions of the previous war.

"It is my understanding, from what I have heard of course, that you were in the war bringing your own…troup?" Willas Tyrell asked.

"Yes. Some friends are very good to have in times of war and Nymeria was certainly helped the war efforts."

She saw Sansa smile.

"Pretending to be the ghost of your brother was very imaginative."

Arya laughed.

"I wasn't pretending to be Robb. When I was in one of the abandon villages I found a bit of armor that wasn't too damaged and went off. "

They spoke little more about it and then Sansa asked Willas if she could have some time with her sister. They then both helped him to his study.

"He is very nice Sansa." Arya offered when the door shut.

"He is. I wanted you two to meet."

They were quiet for a moment. Arya had not seen Sansa in so long. Sansa was still very beautiful and very much like their mother. It stung a bit to think about that.

"How long have you been in the capital?"

"A week now. The rest of the Tyrells shall be joining us in less than a month's time."

The Tyrells were on the losing side of the war it appeared, following in the footsteps of the Lannisters but they were nothing if not resourceful. Sansa was good for keeping them tied with the North, the Riverlands and possibly the Vale.

She heard crying and realized that she had not known anything about her sister.

Sansa got up and vanished into a tiny room between Willas' study and their bedroom. Arya could only hear her soft voice before she emerged with a bundle of smooth ivory cloth embroidered with pale pink roses.

"Arya, this is your niece."

She brought the child and made to put the child in Arya's arm. Somehow the idea of a babe in her arms made her squirmish. She had seen many babies some dead some alive. She had heard them cried and she had seen mothers cry in joy, pain and sadness. It was terrifying and now terrifying knowing Sansa had gone through with it.

"She is not going to bite, Arya."

The babe was placed in her arms and she saw a tiny Sansa with brown eyes. It smelt wonderful like life with soft skin that had not yet been scratched and wide curious eyes that didn't know cruelty, not yet. She kept staring at her with those big brown eyes.

"What…what did you name her?" She heard herself whisper. She had no idea why she felt so …emotional?

"Mya."

She had wisps of copper hair on her head. Arya was relieved when Sansa took the babe from her arms to put her back in her crib.

"How old is she?"

" Five months."

Arya tried to imagine 5 months and see how she didn't remember hearing about the birth of her niece. Perhaps she had been told but didn't think much of it at the time. When she had come home, Sansa was like a distant concept once a sister of Arya but her mind was hazed from having so much to remember; it was still a little fuzzy remember what was the life of Arya and the life of another.

Motherhood looked good on Sansa. She was always beautiful but there was a glow to her. Her voice was even more like Catelyn's.

Sansa reached her hand out and placed it on Arya's muddy one.

"It's been so long. When you were gone there were times I prayed you had escaped the palace and other times I didn't. I was hard to tell what would be more difficult dying or living."

Sansa sounded sympathetic and honest. Somehow different from what she expected.

"Why did I get chosen?"

It had been the question that had bothered her since she arrived. She had never fit in with women and she did all in her power to prove that she was not meant to be a lady. It felt like some awful trick that she was chosen.

"You were never a lady, Arya. It was irritating to see you in soiled dresses and being so wild and how father and mother never really chastised you. It often made me so mad that I behaved so well and you did not."

Sansa put her hand under Arya's chin tilting her head so, so that she could get a better look at her sisters dirty face. Arya looked at her too, still so unsure how to react to this Sansa who know smiled warmly at her.

"Underneath all that filth is a beautiful woman. You always had potential to be beautiful but you chose to hide it. Why?"

Arya had never thought of this. No one had ever asked her this especially herself.

"I never wanted to be a lady and I knew it was not meant for me. I can't be like you."

"Well no one ever asked you to be like me."

Arya smiled. She had never found speaking with her older sister as simple as she had now.

"Can you help to me at least to pretend to be a lady."

Sansa brushed back Arya's hair.

"The lords and ladies of Westeros will see the beauty of a winter's rose."

**I hope you all enjoyed and have a wonderful halloween! What are you going as? I can't decide betweena werewolf, robot or lumpy space princess :) **

**The next chapter will be very fun with more Aegon and Starks don't know about Baratheons and Martells but some dancing is definitely in store! 3**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N-Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. T-T I feel so lame for taking this long with the chapter and making the best people ever wait for a chapter that is in dire need of a Beta (Wink wink). School, work, stage-managing, socializing and fangirling tend to compete for top priority. Gah I just got addicted to Bleach and Naruto of the christmas break and want to start writing some stuff about them. But this chapter was difficult in plotting out and i'm sure i made them seem ooc and perhaps left some major flaws which i would be happy to have pointed out to me via review or message :P Other than that try to enjoy.**

Chapter 6:

"Ow! Seven hells, Sansa!"

"ARYA!"

Arya fastened her mouth shut and resigned herself. She had to keep reminding herself that Sansa was doing her a favour by tugging at her hair with a brush.

From her spot on the floor, Mya looked up at her at her aunt her little brow seemingly furrowed in curiosity. She had some type of rag doll in her chubby fingers.

"Do you ever brush your hair?"

"When I can find a brush."

Arya bit her lip as her sister pulled the brush through her hair until she thought her head would snap off. Sansa had been brushing her hair for nearly and hour and she still was nowhere near ready for tonight. On Sansa's bed was the dress she was supposed to wear. One of the maids had put it on the bed while she was being bathed. Somehow Sansa didn't trust Arya to properly wash herself, not that she was surprised. It was so deep red it looked like blood in contrast to her sister's lush green dress.

"I will barely have anytime to make myself presentable after finishing with you." Sansa said, exasperated. She had kicked Willas out of the room when Arya arrived and had him dressed by his squire, some boy from the Vale.

"Perhaps we shall just pull it back…"

"Do whatever you want. My ass is falling asleep."

"Arya!"

"It must be somewhat nicer by now?"

Sansa sighed ever shocked by her younger sister's total disregard for her appearance.

"I suppose it will have to do. Lord Targaryen shall be here shortly."

Sansa put a very ornate silver pin in her hair before putting the brush down.

"I trust you can dress yourself?"

"Yes, Septa Sansa." Arya chimed as she walked to the bed looking at the blasted thing. It looked too delicate red silk with silver embroidery and a dramatic neckline.

"Here- let me help." Sansa offered before tightening the bodice around Arya's waist and knocking her breath out. She had to grab the bed railing as Sansa tightened the bindings.

"How do you breathe in this?" Arya gasped.

"Very minimally. Here."

Sansa had grabbed the dress to put over Arya's head. The silky material slide on her like another skin and felt cool to the touch. When she heard Sansa gasp she turned and looked at her sister.

"You look like a proper lady."

She frowned. She was sure that the image of a proper lady was not one that would truely want to reflect.

She walked across the room to the large mirror in the wall, captured by decorative wooden roses and ivy leaves.

It was not her in the glass. It was someone else. A stranger. Arya studied the features of the woman in the red dress- short like her but different. Her hair was dark ink spilling down her back and shoulder except for the strands that had been pulled from her pale face and twirled into a hidden binding at the back. The eyes were what she was most scared to see. The greyness the only thing giving away the truth of who she was. They was a fierceness and bewildering anger no lady would ever be capable of, only a wolf.

"You need some colouring." Sansa commented. She went to the table beside the mirror, equally elaborate and pulled out a small silver container holding red pigment. Tipping her finger in gently she made to put it on her younger sister.

"No. That's not me."

Arya said her eyes not leaving the woman in the mirror.

With Arya dressed Sansa quickly put on her deep green coloured dress with it lush velvet and leaf designs she was sure that Willas would be wearing an outfit of similar design. It seemed something Sansa would do.

Sansa put colouring on her lips only to make her eyes more beautiful and complimenting the colour. And unlike Arya's rather simple hairstyle, Sansa creating and interesting and complex weaving bringing it all up to emphasize her lovely cheekbones. No one could be more beautiful than her older sister.

Arya waited for her sister by sitting on the bed and watching her little niece, now in her arms bouncing on her lap.

She decided she liked Mya in all her drooling and gurgling glory. Arya pet at the rolls of fat on the little one's arms feeling so soft and new. She would have let her chew on her hair if she had not received a glare from Sansa through the mirror.

"Could you put her to bed? I will be dressed shortly. Tell Willas."

Arya followed her sisters requests, placing her little niece in her bed and lingering to look at the rosy face. She would make a perfect lady when she gets older, and would give her disapproving looks, like her mother, in a few years but now she only looked up with bright and gentle eyes happy to see her aunt in a red dress.

"Getting to know your new niece?" Willas said from his spot in the chair of the entrance way of the Tyrell chambers as she shut the door of Mya's room behind her.

"She's as lovely as her mother."

He smiled kindly at this.

"Your sister is a wonderful woman."

"Yes, she always knows the right thing to do."

"She has been through so much, just as you have. You Starks are survivors."

Arya thought of the Starks that hadn't survived, all much stronger than her. She had not yet asked Sansa about the Westeros she endured. From what she heard and imagined it would be a long and sober conversation for another day.

Sansa came out a few moments later dressed so impeccably it made Arya feel embarrassed. Sansa could always dress so well.

"Sansa you are beautiful." Willas said as she walked to him and he took her hands in his looking up to her and giving her a smile. It felt intimate so Arya looked away.

There was a knock on the door and the guard outside informed them that Aegon had arrived.

"Let him in." Willas replied.

She felt him give her a look, perhaps wariness.

Aegon walked into the room with all the grace and entitledness an heir to the Throne should have. Arya bit her lip, trying to keep all the nasty things she wanted to say out loud in.

That's when she noticed they matched.

Sansa glanced at her, preparing to be embarrassed yet again by the bluntness of her younger sister. No. don't let him win. She straightened her shoulders.

"Lord Targaryen, you look well." She could hear how lame it sounded in comparison to the compliment he would have received from the more courtly women but she was still rather proud of herself for thinking fast.

She could feel Sansa shock and could see the tiniest curl of a smile on the Targaryen man's face.

He bowed to her before offering her his hand in case she forgot whom was the better liar.

"I suppose we should make out way to the festivities." Willas said, rather amused, taking Sansa's arm and wrapping his around. They looked so perfect together. Sansa always the perfect lady, had a slight blush on her face from the way Willas looked at her and then looking to Arya sheepishly as though asking forgiveness for her being the most perfect lady ever. Arya couldn't even look at Aegon with out wanting to rip his face off. The amused look he seemed to save only for her, constantly in her mind reminding her why she hated him. And that time only a few days prior when she went to his chamber-

He entwined his fingers with hers, effectively derailing her thoughts.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, not wanting Sansa to hear. Sansa and Willas had walked ahead of them.

"Making sure you don't make a run for it." He said, all charming and bullshit. Careful not to lay it on too thick they might see though this mummer's show, she thought as they enter the dining hall.

It was done up with all types of fineries and exotics. She felt out of place. Even at Winterfell it wasn't so bright. When she and Aegon appeared everyone stared at them. There was a tiny inclination in the pit of her stomach that she should perhaps fight or run at this moment. She couldn't do that though. She wasn't a shy child now , she was a warrior and would remain so even if she was in a dress. Arya raised her chin as she and Aegon made their way down the stairs. There were mixed looks of awe, envy and insult. They we're probably thinking of how ridiculous they were together or how they had offered the queen much better matches.

Aegon squeezed her hand.

"Relax, and enjoy the party Arya." He whispered in her hair. She didn't turn to look but let her eyes go to him. He was so strange she still didn't understand him how he made fun of her and then would be so nice to her, like he cared or something. He caught her eye as if knowing she would do this. The little prick was getting under her skin and had the gall to smirk at her. She looked away quickly to her feet, not wanting the frilly guests to see the look of murder on her face.

"Lord Targaryen." A woman's voice, thickly accented and warm, addressed them. Arya looked up and took in the sight of the woman, she was shorter than her with black hair woven into some elaborate style of smooth ringlets. She knew at once this must be Arianne Martell before Aegon introduced her.

"Lady Martell, I'm sure you have heard of my betrothed Lady Arya Stark."

Yes of course she had heard of the wild daughter of Ned Stark who ran with wolves and never wore dresses. Of course she heard of the girl who looked so much like the Lyanna Stark, the woman who stole, whether willingly of not, the heir of the iron throne from his Sun-spear wife so long ago.

Arianne looked her over and smiled.

"Who has not heard of Lady Stark's fierceness in battle."

"Lady Martell, It is good to finally meet you."

She felt uncomfortable beside this woman. There was a fierceness to her as well, a predatory coolness dressed up in civility.

"Lady Stark, I hope not to be too bold, But I have need to speak with Lord Targaryen privately."

"Certainly, Lady Martell." She smiled, happy to escape from Aegon and Arianne. She wasn't sure but based on the woman's eyes she was sure she was hiding something, most likely with her betrothed- perhaps an affair? Though could it be called an affair if they were not married yet? It really didn't matter she would let him sleep with whoever he wanted she could hardly care. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she walked into a solid object, making her bounce back a bit. No. Not a wall, a man.

He looked familiar with dark hair and stormy blue eyes. She could see he knew who she was, recognition gleaming. But she could place this man with his vast upper body. He looked incredibly strong.

"I apologize, ser." He laughed and shook his head before bowing

"It should be me apologizing to milady high." He said and with that she knew.

"Gendry!"

She vaulted herself into his arms, he mind not realizing how much she had missed him, despite how informal she knew she was being.

"Is that how highborn girls say hello?" He teased but she didn't care, had missed him as she had missed Jon.

" What are you doing here?" He lowered her to the ground and let her go, probably feeling the eyes on them.

"I happen to be a guest."

" How had I not seen…" she saw Gendry's attention shift.

"Ser Gendry, I see you have met my betrothed Lady Arya."

"She lets you call her a lady?" Gendry laughed.

Arya felt as though she were missing some piece of information as she looked between the two of them.

"Ser Gendry is one of the Queen's men." Aegon explained though that hardly explained anything.

"I'm a blacksmith I follow the fires." That explained even less. She was getting frustrated with what little she was learning. She was going to tell them as much and a bell rang for supper.

The three of them proceeded to the table. Arya was assigned to sit four seats from the queen directly across from Gendry. Sansa took the spot to her right perhaps to keep and eye on her uncivilized sister.

She looked at the cutlery before her and tried to remember which she was to use first, the rules seemed to change based on where you were. She hadn't often paid attention to these lessons with Septa Mordane, she had usually just used her hands for as much as she could. She was kicking herself for it now. With glances to her from most of the guest all waiting for her to prove how uncivilized she truly was . Sansa tapped her hand and led it to the fork, furthest from the plate.

"You must work your way towards the plate." Sansa said under her breath. "Sit up straighter."

Arya was too grateful to argue so she mumbled a small thanks before taking the fork in her hand, mimicking Sansa's light grip on the utensil. The first course was some root vegetables on a plate all cut with technique of a master cook. When the meal started the room seemed to grow hush with food stopping the flow of conversation.

Arya looked about the room and saw Arianne Martell seating quite close to Daenerys and her council. In her mind the Martell woman would have made a very good mistress to Aegon. She had come from the eldest allies of the Targaryens and seemed so politically informed. Arya could care little for the realm.

The food had a strange sourness to it, something foreign perhaps brought to Westeros by Daenerys.

She felt eyes on her from across the table and didn't need to look up to know whose they were because when ever he wasn't looking at her she was looking at him, unsure how to speak with him now. Gendry had been one of her first friends since the death of her father so long ago. They had been through so much together and he would know how unfit she was for this life. But… So much had happened after they separated. He now was a man of Aegon's but was he still her Gendry?

They barely spoke throughout the five coarse meal. No one really spoke to her other than Sansa who tried to engage her in conversation but gradually gave up, realizing that Arya was entering on of her moods. She felt of a lot of eyes on her and they all saw her as an outsider. She was not a refined woman and she wasn't a lord. In a dress she felt out of place and not quite herself. Had it not been for her reputation, she would have been mistaken for shy.

When it was time to dance, Arya stayed at the table, sipping at a cup of mulled wine. She did not know any of the dances and did not want to be subjected to the humiliation of being caught not knowing the common dances of the seven kingdoms. She tried as best she could to courteously refuse the brave ones that did try to ask her to dance with feeble excuses of feeling light headed. One man, well into his cups, seemed to be rejecting her refusals.

"Thank you for your consideration Lord Abanthone but I am not at my best right now." She said doing her best Sansa impersonation while folding her arms over her chest, her physical way of saying not bloody likely.

However, the older man was rather unaware and his flush complexion made it obvious how drunk her really was.

"C'monn lady wolf, dontcha dance?"

She was starting to lose patience and did not want to make a scene, it had been a while since someone had not been so bold with her. She was feeling the stress build as she tried to stay composed. Usually she would have pummeled the fool, however if she did that she would just be proving to them all how weak she was. She couldn't let him win.

"I would if not for my sore ankle, thank-you for invitation Lord Abanthone but I cannot participate at this time." She said so smoothly. She even managed her best smile.

"That is unfortunate, I did want to dance with my sweet lady."

She looked up sharply, already feeling that same bile at the back of her throat and let her perfected smile falter.

Lord Abanthone, the dumb drunk turned in a rather wobbly manner to look at the owner of that voice. She was sure if he had drunk any less his glazed eyed would have popped out at seeing her betrothed standing behind him. He had his typical amused look only this time it did not reach her violet eyes.

Thankfully, Lord Abanthone realized his cup was dry and wobbled towards a drink wench.

Arya sighed.

"I thought he would never leave me be. I would have had to knock him out before his drink did."

"You would be doing the next poor lady a favour. He's a fool when sober and a fool with a death wish when drunk."

She laughed, shifting in her chair and relaxing finally. She assumed Aegon would follow her lead and sit with her but he didn't. He stood there, waiting it seemed. She felt her brief moment of comfort leaving as she tensed, her usual response when he looked at her like that.

"What?"

"I would like to dance with you, Arya."

"No. Absolutely not." She insisted. She would look like a fool but that wasn't all. She wasn't sure she wanted to be that close to him, something in her stomach always bad her want to run from him or to him –with fists clenched for sure.

He held his hand out, like he meant to shake hers. She looked up to his face to see if this was a sorry joke and sure enough he still held that self-assured look but something in his jaw tensed.

"Arya, be assured. I am a very capable dancer."

"One dance and you leave me be for the rest of the night."

"If that's what you really want."

With that she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, he head hung in defeat dressed as feminine humility.

Sure enough they were moving towards the center of the dance floor. When Aegon had found a suitable spot for embarrassing his future lady. As was custom be fore dancing. Aegon bowed before her and she begrudgingly curtsied. She was hopeless at dancing, she had not even bothered pretending to listen to Septa Mordane when she taught Sansa the dances of the seven kingdoms. Now with these people all around, all better dancers and all waiting for her to mess up.

Aegon went up to her and coaxed her arm around his neck. Their chest were almost flush against each other which she was very certain was both inappropriate and not the way to dance.

"What are you doing?" She hissed. Aegon smiled, leaned in and swept some loose strands of hair away from Arya's ear.

"Put your feet on mine."

For some unknown reason, she obliged, stepping onto his shoes and getting even more ridiculously close to lord Targaryen. She could already feel the indignant stares as he began to twirl her around in a smooth Westoros waltz.

She remembered a time long ago when she had turned to Jon to teach her. After being so cruelly criticized by Sansa, Jeyne Poole and Septa Mordane, she had ran to her brother in the hallway angry tears an all. Thinking about it made her smile at how naïve she was think her brothers could make everything better. She wanted him to beat up Sansa most likely but instead he offered to teach her. Telling her to hop onto his feet at her moved her about the hallway. They were the clumsiest Starks ever, she remember almost smashing her head into the stone walls but laughing all the same. The Jon of now was so different it took so much to get a laugh out of him.

"What are you thinking of?"

"None of your business." She snapped. She had forgotten where she was for a moment and being caught off guard by Aegon did nothing to calm her. Still…

"I was thinking about Jon."

"Your brother? While you dance with your betrothed? I didn't think House Stark was like that."

She caught his insinuation and chose to ignore it- if he was going to be annoying, she wouldn't tell him anything.

Aegon was so warm. Her body against his felt like it was roasting.

"Are you sick?" She blurted. He frowned at her and slowed their dance.

"No. Why?"

"Well. You just feel warmer than most…Is it because you're Targaryen?"

Something strange crossed his face but her turned his head before she could distinguish it.

"No one has said that before, I never thought much of but it's possible I guess."

She nodded, considering. The conversation died there and so Arya took the time to watch all the other people, She saw Willas and Sansa sitting down at the table- Sansa whispering something in his ear and Willas slowly smiling. Daenerys also sat watching the party looking slightly disappointed if Arya were to guess. She looked like perhaps she realized someone she wanted to be at the celebration would not show up. Daenerys looked up to her, as if feeling her eyes and smiled.

"Shit!"

Arya's attention was back to Aegon.

"Do you know any dances?" He hissed. She could tell that them just swaying in the middle of the room wasn't cutting it. He looked desperate and it was making her really consider. She could only dance with a sword. She sighed, for her lack of noble ladylike behavior.

"I only know the canatas. Sorry."

Arya backed off of his shoes and made to let him dance with a more capable lady but he held her arm. She could tell he was thinking something awful.

"That is the snake dance right?"

"I suppose but-"

"Wait here!"

He released her arm to moved towards the band playing. For some strange ungodly reason, she waited in the middle of the dance floor perfectly still. Wanting to hit him for his stupidity and wanting to see what he was doing as he laughed with a drummer before gracefully turning back to her. Arya felt herself grow nervous, the hair on the back of her neck slowly standing as the distance between them shrank with his every step.

'I've only ever seen the dance so you might have to show me."

"What! I'm not…"

She realized something strange, something she had not expected. He had faith in her. It was such a strange concept but she wanted to keep his faith. She had never asked of it and wasn't she wanted it until it was already hers. Slowly her feet moved into first position as the drums and flute began to play.

She had learned the dance so long ago from a Lysene whore. The dance was often called the snake charmer because of how the movements looked. The dance was a mix of careful footwork, gestural curving movements so much like how a snake might move through the fields.

Aegon stood still as she moved around him, her hand never leaving his torso but rather drawing curving lines on his tunic. She tried not to think about how stupid she looked or how –possibly- horrified the rest of the guests looked. Aegon eyes were intense though, so much so that she found it easier to focus on them, they wouldn't leave her. She came around to his other side. Aegon knew more than he was letting on. He brought his hand up to her and they danced. He was a great dancer he met everyone of her movements.

It was an easy enough dance, any idiot who could walk in a circle could learn the canatas. It was equal parts walking and keeping balance as your partner spins you, lower you, and pulls you.

He was too close to her, shrinking the spaces she could escape through the dance. When she made to walk away at the end he spun her until she lost her balance and fell into his outstretched arm, his face hovering over hers, eye not leaving hers. It felt like anticipation between them.

'What is that dance...'

"_Such vulgarity…."_

'…_it must be exotic….'_

'_surely the queen…'_

'_is she trying to prove.'_

Arya freed herself from Aegon as dignified as she could. The looks were all so different but regardless they were all on her, reminding her how different she truly was.

She bowed, a little sharper than intended, and walked towards the hallway. It was empty except for the two Dothraki doors men. She ignored them and put her forehead against the wall. She closed her eyes.

"Arya."

"Go away."

He didn't leave she could see the minimal light of the hall vanishing on her right side.

"I'm sorry."

She turned to look at him, seeing if it was truly her he was addressing.

Aegon caught her eyes- it was a weird talent of his, she was sure. He could make her look at him, like he was on her level or understood her at the very least.

"They don't like us. Daenerys and I are strangers and so are allegiances are always questioned. When she chose not to take a king and just caused more scandal."

Arya already knew this from men and from her Brother Jon. It was truly disturbing to some to see a woman standing without a king, though from what she had heard Daenerys had already been married. But there were those who saw the woman sovereign as unnatural and a woman who would not wed or bed the next pompous lord to propose to her as ungodly. Heaven forbid a woman with power.

"It should be none of their business. She deserves to rule however she likes."

Aegon softened at this.

"Not everyone shares that view. Not all men are awful." He leaned in to Arya, to intimidate. She turned to lean against the wall a pose mimicking, his own, with her arms folded against her chest with head held up defiantly. Aegon was unswayed. He put an arm on each side of her head. Now, not only could she not escape his eyes but him. The space between their bodies was scarce and she could feel his familiar warmth, hovering.

"Few have ever been able to prove that." She swallowed and he drew closer. His breath was on her face and she closed her eyes trying to place the warmth to something familiar. Her lips parted as she tried to taste the breath, take it in like poison and identify it.

Then his lips were on hers, not at dry as she had previously assumed but not entirely soft. They were firm like a fruit filled with juice. She opened her mouth more and took his bottom lip between her teeth to test it, only mildly shocked when he grunted before pressing his body on hers and bringing his hands to her skull. She continued to lick and taste his lips, finding the flesh to her satisfaction and peaking her very dangerous curiousity. She put a firm hold on his hips, her hands clamping him to her. A tongue appeared and the exploration deepened at both tried to enter the other. Arya felt her tongue his the roof of him mouth but then Aegon's tongue hit the inside of her cheek.

When they were both breathless they parted. Both looking at each other waiting for the next round, thinking of what would be the next move. Aegon played with the hair at the base of her neck. She smirked taking in the flushness of his face and how his eyes looked to wild and dilated. She leaned in for another kiss.

"Arya."

Sansa stood in the middle of the hall, rigid as if she were made of marble. She was completely composed with an air of noble coolness.

"Sister, I think it is time you go to rest."

Sansa turned her gaze onto the man that was leaning on her little sister. Arya could see Sansa perfect mouth almost falling into a frown. Arya looked between the two and felt embarrassed that she was still in his arms. Aegon had not even bother to proper himself before Lady Tyrell.

"Lord Targaryen, if you would be so kind, I would like to escort my lady sister back to her room, it would honour me if you could tell my lord husband."

Neither Aegon nor Sansa moved. It felt like the moment before a fight and for once Arya wasn't sure who was the most threatening as both stared each other down.

Arya weaved from under his arms and walked to Sansa's side as dignified and ladylike as she could after being caught in a rather unladylike position. When they were side by side, Sansa began to walk with the stiffness of a veteran soldier.

Arya kept her head down like any chastised child and fought the urge to look behind her when Aegon said good night to her and her sister.

...

**A/N- In case I didn't drop my hints deftly, I really do need a BETA and would love if someone could msg me if interested and if not at least review saying if you loved this or hate it or what one directioner catches your fancy lmao :P**


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